


Malibu and Pineapple

by lets_talk_appella



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Clubbing, Drunk Sex, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Kinda, Strap-Ons, Uhh basically there's not really plot but lots of smut and some humor so, pineapple is involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lets_talk_appella/pseuds/lets_talk_appella
Summary: "Chloe might be more than a little tipsy, but she’s still pretty sure Beca has never looked more gorgeous than she does right now, her features highlighted by the flash of multicolored strobe lights as she rolls her hips in time with the throbbing bass. "Smut, smut, and more smut.





	Malibu and Pineapple

**Author's Note:**

> Established Bechloe. Enjoy!  
> Please, please do not read if underage.  
> Also, I'm eternally grateful to Amlev/acabellas for Beta'ing this!

Chloe might be more than a little tipsy, but she’s still pretty sure Beca has never looked more gorgeous than she does right now, her features highlighted by the flash of multicolored strobe lights as she rolls her hips in time with the throbbing bass. She’s wearing black skinny jeans and a navy top, nothing outlandish, but still, she looks absolutely stunning.

Beca’s hands rise to find purchase in her own hair, fingers snarling into her long locks as she moves, losing herself in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Chloe watches from the bar, allowing her eyes to roam shamelessly up and down her girlfriend’s body; when she finally tears her gaze from Beca’s twisting hips up to her face, she finds Beca’s eyes locked onto hers. A thrill runs down her spine—something about Beca watching her _watching her_ —does things to Chloe, things that Beca unfairly takes advantage of, drawing her lower lip between her teeth and moving her hips with somehow _more_ purpose.

Seems like Beca might be more than a little tipsy, too.

Suddenly, Chloe desperately needs to cool down.

She turns to face the bar instead of the dance floor and tries to catch the eye of the blonde and busty bartender. Before she can call out, though, a hand lands on her arm.

“Let me buy your drink.” 

Chloe looks up; the hand is attached to an admittedly cute guy with brown hair, some stubble, and lots of muscles. 

“I’m good, thanks,” Chloe dismisses with a wave, but the guy leans forward and into her personal space.

“Really. I insist.”

Before Chloe can tell him to shove it, Beca is suddenly there, an arm wrapping around Chloe’s waist and storm clouds building in her eyes.

“Back off, dude,” she deadpans over the music. “Go find someone else to skeeze on.”

The guy blinks, taken aback, and then turns away to leave, looking for all the world like a lost dog.

Beca hums with satisfaction and claims his vacated barstool, signaling to the bartender. “Two double Malibu and pineapples, please.”

Chloe leans in, meaning to object to the “double” part of her request, but instead hears herself say into Beca’s ear, “I love when you get all jealous. It’s cute.”

“Hmpf,” Beca glances at her, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m glad you like it.”

She’s not even breathing hard from dancing, and Chloe finds herself marveling (not for the first time) at Beca’s stamina. “You’re hot when you’re jealous. That’s just a fact.”

“Is that so?

Chloe nods, glancing to where the bartender is fixing their drinks. “You get all... _possessive_.”

“Mmm. What are you gonna do about it?” Beca asks, her eyes flicking down to Chloe’s lips. “Flirt with everyone else in this bar to make me jealous?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Chloe sighs overdramatically.

As Beca opens her mouth to respond, their drinks appear in front of them, plunked down onto the wood of the bar by the blonde bartender.

“Oh, thanks,” Beca says without taking her eyes from Chloe as she slaps a twenty-dollar bill onto the bar. “And keep the change.”

Chloe reaches for her drink, swirling the bright contents around with the straw even as she says, “Besides, Beca. The only person I want to go home with tonight is you.”

Only pausing long enough to appreciate the slightly stunned expression on Beca’s face, Chloe raises her drink to capture the straw between her lips, taking a long sip. The sweetness of the pineapple juice mixing with coconut rum rolls over her tongue, making her think briefly of sunshine and island breezes even as the liquor hits her stomach, its warmth already radiating outward to roll slickly through her veins.

As she drinks, Beca’s left hand lands on her thigh, about midway up. She’s wearing a skirt, so she feels the burning heat of Beca’s touch directly on her exposed skin. The next thing Chloe knows, Beca has scooted closer, practically in her lap, pressing her entire body into Chloe’s side. 

Instantly, the pounding music in the bar fades to a dull background rumble and the faces around them turn into a blurred mass. All that matters is how warm she suddenly is with Beca touching her.

The hand on her thigh squeezes, moves an inch higher.

Chloe has to slam her almost empty drink back down to the bar top with a gasp. This really should not be happening—they’re both tipsy and they’re in public and…

And lips appear at her ear, brushing the shell of it as Beca whispers, “You look so beautiful.”

Chloe’s eyes flutter and she leans into the touch; a tongue flicks over her pulse point, hot and soft, leaving a cooling path in its wake. 

“You have _no idea_ how much I want you right now,” Beca breathes, and Chloe’s stomach pangs at the same time lips land on the side of her throat. 

Beca kisses up the side of her neck, lips dragging over her skin, never allowing so much as a hair of space to separate them. Chloe has to resist the urge to moan when Beca sucks on skin. She shifts in her chair, intending to pull away… only to tilt her head to offer more of her neck to Beca’s mouth.

“I think about you all the time,” is whispered into her ear next as Beca presses somehow even closer.

Chloe makes accidental eye contact with the bartender, who immediately looks away. “Baby, we should—”

She’s cut off by her own gasp of surprise; Beca’s right hand had replaced her left on Chloe’s thigh, freeing her left arm to wrap around Chloe’s lower back. Beca pulls her even closer, ignoring the bar around them.

“I think about touching you,” Beca whispers in her ear.

Beca’s fingers trail up her leg, dipping under the hem of Chloe’s short skirt to stroke at the skin of her inner thigh.

“Tasting you.”

Lips map along Chloe’s jaw, the touch so hot she’s sure it’ll burn.

“Being inside you.”

Chloe doesn’t remember turning her head, but Beca’s lips are abruptly on hers in a searing kiss that tastes like the Caribbean. She does her best to turn in her own barstool to better the angle of the kiss, but then Beca’s backing away and licking her lips.

“Let’s dance,” she calls over the suddenly loud music and returned crush of the club’s crowd.  


“I… okay,” Chloe agrees numbly. She rises from her seat on wobbly legs and—as an afterthought—throws back the remainder of her drink. When she sets the empty glass down next to Beca’s (when did she drink that?), the bartender takes them with a wink and a “Have fun, ladies!”

Before she can think of a reply, Beca’s pulling her to the center of the dance floor, spinning to face her, and draping her arms over her shoulders. The floor is hot and crowded and the music is so loud Chloe can feel it reverberating in her chest, but then Beca’s hips resume the rolling rhythm they had started the night with, erasing Chloe’s every other thought until all she can think about is Beca, Beca, Beca.

And how much she wants to touch her.

As soon as the thought forms, Chloe’s hands find those hips, feeling Beca’s overheated skin even through the denim of her black skinny jeans and her belt. Every movement Beca makes—every smooth swivel and dip—transfers through Chloe’s fingertips, travels along her arms and through her nerve endings all the way to her brain, arriving as a series of sparks that makes her pull Beca even closer.

Then the white strobe lights start.

Chloe’s alcohol-infused brain struggles to keep up; each flash of the lights brings a new detail of Beca into sharp relief. Beca’s chocolate hair seemingly suspended in the air as she dances; a flash of white teeth behind perfect lips; sparkling dark eyes; every moment a freeze frame, capturing nothing but Beca.

The strobe lights stop, plunging them back into the semidarkness. Chloe takes what feels like her first breath since they started dancing. Her reprieve doesn’t last long, though, because she blinks and Beca’s behind her, hands on Chloe’s hips, guiding, leading, until she’s most definitely grinding her ass into Beca’s front. 

Chloe reacts on autopilot, lifting her arms over her head and finding Beca’s hair; she waves her fingers into the dark locks, keeping Beca close. “Shit, Bec.”

Beca’s arms move to snake around her waist, hands roving without shame over her thighs, stomach, and the undersides of her breasts. Beca’s perfume is in her nose and Beca’s breaths, fast with the exertion of their dance, ghost over her shoulder. Chloe relaxes, still rolling her hips into Beca’s and leaning her head to the side, exposing her neck to the press of Beca’s lips. 

“I can’t wait to take you home,” Beca pants against her skin between open-mouthed kisses.

“God...” Chloe groans, arching back harder into Beca.

A tongue runs around the shell of her ear to lap at the lobe. The hands roving Chloe’s body return to her hips, fingers digging into the material of her skirt. Beca’s voice, half an octave lower than usual and full of rasp: “I can’t stop thinking about how you feel around my fingers.”

Chloe snaps at the same time the strobe lights resume. Her hands fly from Beca’s hair to Beca’s touch on her hips; as soon as she has a firm grip on Beca’s hand she’s moving, parting the writhing crowd, heading for the bathroom. She feels how wet she is with every step and of course that only makes it worse because Beca’s hand is in hers and—when she spares a glance back—Beca’s smirk is in place, somehow looking even sexier than usual in the strobe lights.

The line to the bathroom is long and Chloe hesitates. Immediately, Beca’s welded against her back, kissing her neck, hips rocking against Chloe’s ass, fingertips trailing down Chloe’s thighs again to toy with the hem of her skirt, threatening to slip higher before they’ve even made it to the privacy of the bathroom. 

Then Beca bites down on her neck and Chloe’s knees weaken. “Emergency!” she hears herself calling out, startling the girls in line in front of her. “Sorry, emergency, can we get through here—” Chloe shoves her way forward, Beca’s soft laugh filling her ears until they’re at the front of the line and have to wait for whoever is taking so long in the single bathroom to hurry up, and who even puts a single bathroom in a club this size, honestly, that’s just so impractical and—

And the door opens and a girl stumbles out, barely getting out of the way before Chloe’s barging past her, Beca on her heels. 

“It’s a sex emergency, aca-bitches!” Beca yells out to the horde of pissed off girls outside, and then Chloe’s pulling her inside and slamming the door closed and locking it, muffling the sounds of the club just in time for Beca to spin her around and press her against it, lips crashing onto hers in a sloppy, drunken kiss that steals her breath.

Beca’s tongue is immediately in her mouth, still tasting of their drinks, and her hands are in Chloe’s hair and on her breasts and ghosting under her top to lightly drag her nails down Chloe’s stomach.

“Your abs are so hot,” Beca breaks the kiss to whisper against Chloe’s lips.

Chloe hums in acknowledgment, then replies, “I can’t believe you said it was a ‘sex emergency.’” She peels herself off the door and backs to the lone sink, Beca still very much attached to her front. “We’re gonna get kicked out.” Her shoes stick to the floor as she moves and she doesn’t like to think about the last time this place was cleaned, but she stops caring as soon as Beca’s hands find her ass, lifting until she’s sitting on the sink. 

“We’ll be fast,” Beca says, pulling her hair back with an elastic and dropping to her knees. “This okay?” she pauses to ask, her eyes flicking up.

“Yes, Bec, just—” 

Beca’s hands land on her thighs, trailing up to push at the hem of the skirt even as she presses her lips to the inside of Chloe’s knee. Chloe lifts her hips, helping her bunch the skirt up, and then Beca’s reaching for her ruined underwear, dragging the garment down and twisting out of the way to pull it off and shove it in her pocket before returning to her place between Chloe’s open legs, moving them over her shoulders. 

Chloe’s hands wrap around the ledge of the counter, supporting herself as Beca ducks to kiss up her thighs, her hands wandering freely over Chloe’s body. There’s a loud pounding outside, and Chloe isn’t sure if it’s the music or the girls still waiting in line, and she opens her mouth to tell Beca to hurry up, but her voice dies in her throat at the proud smirk on Beca’s face.

It makes Chloe’s bare center throb and the last thing she sees is Beca’s lips parting as she leans in before Chloe’s eyes roll back and her head thuds against the mirror behind her. 

Beca’s tongue is hot against her, sweeping up through folds flicking over her clit, soothing everything that Chloe knows is hot and drenched and begging for Beca. Chloe’s hips tilt up, only for Beca’s hands to appear, pressing her down into the cool ceramic sink.

Beca groans against her, pulling only far enough away to say, “You taste like pineapple,” before she’s going again, pressing in. Encouraging her, Chloe wraps her legs around Beca, pulling her closer, closer, until she isn’t sure if Beca can really breathe. One of her hands flies to Beca’s hair, gripping tight and guiding, and Beca moans again; she likes her hair pulled.

“Ah—Bec—shit—don’t stop—”

Chloe forces her eyes to stay open, forces herself to watch Beca’s head bobbing between her legs, the sight and sound and feel of Beca’s tongue and nose nudging her clit sending zings of pleasure up her spine. Her toes curl and her legs twitch around Beca, tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing, as she fights the urge to thrust her hips into Beca’s face, and she feels herself becoming more and more swollen by the second. Then Beca moves even lower and there’s a soft intrusion at her entrance pushing in and pressing against her as it pulls out before repeating the pattern. Chloe swears and tenses and feels herself tightening around Beca’s tongue and there’s a knot in her stomach that’s aching to unravel—

An earth-shaking pounding on the bathroom door startles Chloe so badly that she almost slips right off the sink; Beca’s hands steady her at the last minute as a loud male voice shouts through the door, “Okay ladies, time to go! I’m opening the door!”

“Are you fu—”

“Shush!” Chloe hisses, shoving Beca away and hopping off the sink. “Oh, where’s my underwear? Shit, shit, _shit_ , Beca, we need to—”

“You have ten seconds! Ten, nine—”

“No time, just fix your skirt,” Beca whisper-yells back as she frantically scrubs paper towel over her face, cleaning Chloe off of her mouth, cheeks, and nose.

“Six, five—”

Chloe tugs her skirt down as best she can, trying desperately to ignore how hot she still feels, having been torn away from relief seconds too soon. 

“Three, two—”

Beca’s at her side instantly, letting her hair fall back down around her shoulders as she checks herself in the mirror and spares a glance to make sure Chloe is completely covered.

Keys rattle in the door, but before the bouncer can enter, Chloe unlocks it and flings it wide, coming face-to-face with the angry crowd waiting for them outside.

“I _told_ you,” she says loudly to Beca, “I said that shrimp looked off, I knew we never should have eaten there, but you insisted—”

“Yeah, yeah,” the bouncer cuts her off completely. “Save it. Just go.”

“Going!” Beca says brightly, grabbing Chloe’s hand and pulling her away, this time toward the exit. 

Chloe’s even more turned on than she was before they’d gone to the bathroom; walking is more than a little uncomfortable, the air cool against her bare, still incredibly swollen center. “Beca…” she breathes, hearing the need in her own voice. Thankfully, Beca gets the message, and as soon as they hit the sidewalk outside the club, Beca’s waving down a taxi. The next instant, Beca’s hands are in her hair, pulling her into a searing kiss that conveys everything Chloe needs to know.

Maybe it’s the remaining alcohol in her system or just the press of Beca’s lips against hers, but Chloe doesn’t notice the taxi pull up until Beca pulls away from the kiss and leads her toward the waiting car. Beca holds the door open for her and she climbs in, acknowledging the driver with a quick smile before perching delicately on the leather seats. As soon as she’s seated, Beca’s in the cab with her and pulling the door closed. Chloe doesn’t remember her giving any address but the cab is moving and Beca’s hand is again on her thigh and sliding up.

Beca’s fingers dip under the hem of her skirt just as Chloe’s brain catches up with the cab; she manages to catch Beca’s hand in time, meeting her concerned and confused eyes. “Not like this,” she whispers, and Beca’s nodding in understanding and instead guiding her hand into her own lap and then it’s really second nature for Chloe to drag her fingernails over the soaked denim covering Beca’s crotch.

A soft whimper leaves Beca’s lips so Chloe does it again, and again, until Beca’s legs fall open, giving Chloe the room she needs to press her entire hand to Beca. Then Beca’s moaning her name and reaching over to pull Chloe onto her lap and suddenly she’s straddling Beca’s lap in the back of the car. 

She only spares a fleeting thought to their driver—who is getting way more than he bargained for—but then all that matters is the taste of Beca’s lips under hers and the press of Beca’s hands at her back, her hips, her ass, until once again all she can feel and think and taste is Beca, Beca, Beca.

The sudden stop of the cab startles her, and she reclaims her tongue from Beca’s mouth to look up and sees they’re already at the Bella house. Without a second thought, she opens the back door and climbs off Beca’s lap, stepping onto the pavement outside. Beca swipes her credit card and more or less launches herself out of the taxi. Chloe thinks the driver might have called out something after them, maybe a “Have fun” or “I’ll bill you for the dry cleaning,” but she isn’t sure because Beca’s hand is in her own and she’s being led into the house and stumbling and laughing up the stairway to her own bedroom.

Beca slams the bedroom door and locks it, and for a second Chloe’s disappointed that she isn’t immediately pressed against it, but then Beca’s pulling her into a kiss and smiling against her lips until they’re both giggling, laughing drunkenly as they kick off their shoes. Hands pull at the hem of Chloe’s shirt and then Beca’s lifting it up and off until Chloe is just in her bra and skirt, and then Chloe blinks and the bra is gone and Beca’s shirt is somehow flying across the room. Beca reaches behind herself to take off her own bra while Chloe musters enough brainpower to shimmy out of her skirt, and as soon as she steps out of it, Beca’s lips are on hers and Chloe’s hands move of their own accord to land on Beca’s belt buckle. 

Chloe’s fingers tremble and her stomach flips, flutters with anticipation, and she has to break the kiss so she can watch what she’s doing, watch her own hands grip the leather belt and tug, releasing the buckle so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans and open them to shove her hand into them unceremoniously to cup Beca.

Beca groans and it’s not quiet; Chloe can feel how wet she is through the fabric of her underwear as she presses three fingers against her. The angle is hell on her wrist in Beca’s jeans but she doesn’t care, only pressing harder, rubbing, wanting to bring Beca to that high, when Beca’s hand circles her wrist and stops her.

She looks up, question on the tip of her tongue, but the way Beca’s eyes sear into her makes her voice catch in her throat.

“I only want… just you,” Beca says, her voice strained. 

“Okay,” Chloe manages, and pulls away to teeter on shaky legs to her bed, crawling into the center.

When she turns around, Beca’s taken off her jeans and underwear and is rifling through the drawer in Chloe’s dresser than only means one thing.

Chloe’s entire body flushes and her core throbs, reminding her that she never got anything even close to resembling relief in the club’s bathroom. A small whine tears its way free from her throat and her eyes slam closed as she half-imagines, half-remembers what it feels like for Beca to use the strap-on on her; the way Beca’s hips fit perfectly between her thighs, filling her with the silicone toy, driving in and pushing her up the bed with each thrust until it makes her arch up and cry out, their bodies moving in rhythmic tandem.

By the time Chloe opens her eyes, trading imagination for a future reality, Beca stands at the foot of her bed, harness and bright purple toy—it almost looks bigger than Chloe remembers—already in place around her hips.

The need between Chloe’s legs grows, turning into a desperate, empty ache, and she knows she must look a total mess, to the point where it’s actually becoming uncomfortable.

“Bec…”

Beca’s tongue flicks out to moisten her lips and she climbs on the bed, kneeling between Chloe’s calves. “You’re sure?” she asks, resting her fingertips down on Chloe’s legs just below the knee. “We drank kind of a lot…”

Warmth fills Chloe’s chest; for as long as they’ve been together, the fact that Beca always checks… well. It’s almost as sexy as anything else they’ve done tonight. And will do. 

“I’m sure,” she breathes, then exhales sharply as Beca’s fingertips brush high over her thighs, teasing. She tries to squirm down into the touch, searching for contact, but Beca’s pulls away and starts shuffling backward.

“Then turn around,” Beca commands softly, one hand moving to wrap its fingers wrap loosely around the base of the toy. It should look casual, but something about it makes Chloe’s hands twitch against the sheets. 

Dragging her eyes away from between Beca’s hips, Chloe rolls to her stomach and picks herself up so she’s resting on her hands and knees. As she hears the crinkle of sheets signaling Beca’s approach, she reaches for a pillow to hold on to, something to anchor her to this plane of existence. She’s breathing hard already, fingers clenching and unclenching on the pillowcase as her hips rock back minutely against nothing, searching for Beca; a shiver racks her body, causing her breath to fall jaggedly from her lips.

She feels Beca moving close behind her and widens her stance automatically, giving her room. Beca’s hands appear on her hips and Chloe shudders when Beca leans forward to kiss her spine, breasts pressing against her lower back and long hair tickling Chloe’s skin.

Which—"Put my hair up?” Chloe remembers to ask while she has the brainpower.

Beca chuckles softly behind her, and then her familiar hands comb through Chloe’s hair, pulling it up into a ponytail with the same elastic she had used in the bathroom. 

“Ready?” Beca asks as soon as she’s replaced her hands on Chloe’s hips.

Chloe wants to laugh; if she were any more ready, she’d be a puddle. “See for yourself.”

Beca groans and a second later, warm fingers finally slip between Chloe’s folds, making her hips jolt and head fall forward.

“Yeah, you’re,” Beca huffs, “you’re... yep.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Chloe gasps, and she can picture the look on Beca’s face, picture the way her mouth pulls into a determined smirk and her eyes harden with the challenge, and something about that turns Chloe on even more and she rocks backward—

—even as the dildo slides under her and through her folds teasingly, moving in short little jerks to become coated. The breath Chloe lets out is more of a nasally whoosh than anything and her eyes slam shut; her hips work against it, building friction, already tightening the knot deep in her gut until she’s more or less grinding against it when, suddenly, it disappears. She cries out at the loss, but then she feels it teasing her entrance. It’s instinct for her to rock back at the same time Beca finally presses in—and it slides into her so, so easily in one motion that it almost makes her choke.

“Shit, you good?” Beca asks, her hands tightening on Chloe’s hips, but she doesn’t move.

“Ahhh…” Chloe has to take a moment to fight off the sudden orgasm; she’d been so empty for so long that finally having Beca inside her feels… being filled, stretched like this is so much more comfortable. “It’s good. Big.” 

Beca hums before slowly pulling out almost all the way—Chloe can feel every inch of the toy pulling at her walls, making her mouth fall open—before thrusting in. Then she does it again. And again, until she’s thrusting deep and hard enough to make Chloe’s eyes roll back in her head. The sounds of their skin slapping together and their combined moans, as well as the toy delving inside her is utterly obscene, but Chloe isn’t about to stop this for the world.

A particularly enthusiastic pull makes the toy slide out of her, though, and Chloe whimpers, her hips already moving back, searching, until Beca repositions it and slides in, slamming even harder, switching to deep, fast movements that make Chloe fold forward with a throaty moan, her arms giving out and face pressing into the pillow.

“I want to hear you,” Beca pants behind her, and then fingers tug at her ponytail, bringing her back upright with a gasp. Something about the angle changes with that and the head of the toy drags along Chloe’s front wall perfectly until she’s slamming her hips back, meeting Beca stroke for stroke.

“Shit, Bec, Bec—a—Beca, don’t stop,” Chloe manages, “And more, please, I—”

She’s cut off by her own gasping moan as Beca’s free hand—the one not gripping her hair—drags down her back, nails digging into the skin. It makes her arch up, and then Beca’s moving her hips in hard, quick strokes that steal the breath from her lungs and pull messes of syllables from her lips. She feels herself starting to tighten around the toy, clenching it as her toes curl and body tenses, and Beca notices immediately.

“Close?” Beca gaps, then moans when Chloe can only nod. She starts grinding into the thrusts and Chloe clamps down even more on the toy.

“Bec—please—”

She doesn’t even know what she’s saying or asking for—and maybe she should be a little embarrassed for being this quick—but then Beca’s fingers appear between her legs, finding her swollen and sensitive clit to circle and flick it, and with one last thrust in Chloe falls over the edge, pulsing around the toy so much she wouldn’t be surprised if Beca could actually feel it, the sensation transferring from the shaft to the insert. 

When she finally comes down from the high, she gives a weak nod and Beca pulls out slowly. As soon as she’s out, Chloe semi-collapses on her side, still panting and slick with sweat. She hears Beca taking off the harness, swearing as it gets caught on her foot, and then the bed dips; Beca flops down, spooning her from behind as she presses kisses to Chloe’s bare shoulder.

“You alive?” Beca whispers after a minute.

Chloe smiles, turning around in Beca’s arms, tangling their legs, and nudging their noses together. “I think so,” she sighs. “Did you…”

“Not just now, no,” Beca whispers against her lips. “It’s okay. I came earlier. At the club.”

Chloe blinks. “In the bathroom?”

Beca hums and cuddles somehow even closer into Chloe. “You really turned me on.”

“You started it.”

“Mmm. Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“Ehh…”

“Weirdo. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Chlo,” Beca whispers. Then… “Encore?”

Chloe can’t wipe the smile off her face.


End file.
